All things turn into dark green water.

Help, I'm alive...

I never thought much about what makes a person good.  I know that we are all capable of great change, and this makes me hesitant to assign any one label to a person.  I suppose it's easier for some folks to be harder on themselves, though, which is what I suspect is happening with Cian.  Even with his slight smile and acceptance, I can tell his spirit is not entirely at ease.  It's not my job to fix that, I suppose, but I can't help but feel a certain type of way when a friend is crestfallen with no obvious solution.

He responds to my offer of a steady income with something I did not entirely expect - a thanks to me for putting him to work.  "Nah, you're helping me out," I say.  "With the plague and all, we're falling a bit behind on the smaller pieces like that clock."  I motion with the wrench in the direction of his hands, busied organizing the parts on the table.

He steps into a different mode of conversation, about the lockdown and the construction site.  Thoughtful, I flick the switch on the dehumidifier and watch it run for a few seconds, ensuring that nothing is leaking or smoking.

I never thought much of the construction site bombing.  After all, it was across the city from us.  Customers loved to gossip about the topic though, especially as the lockdown became to look more and more permanent as the days went buy.  I shake my head, as if to clear the cloud of extraneous thoughts away.  "Not too sure myself," I say, my voice airy and distant.  "I remember hearing the news in disbelief because the 'revolutionaries' they claimed were responsible were pretty few and far between."

"Sure, a small group could organize something like that, I s'pose," my thoughts rambling a bit off the path toward a clear answer.  "But the longer we've been in lockdown, the less likely I think it would be due to a small number of people.  No one seems to want to come forward with information, but maybe that's because no one has any damned information to offer."

Iara

My heart keeps beating like a hammer
Hard to be soft, tough to be tender

Pick yourself up, up off the floor
Wipe the tears from off your face, because the cops are knocking on the door

It is perhaps a topic some are tired of discussing at this point, with the lack of any new information and all it seemed to often be the same theories circulating over and over again, but it was the first topic that came to his mind and he doesn't want to just let the silence linger for too long. He continues to carefully clean the small pieces while listening, nodding slowly here and there with a quiet hum.

"I just wish they could give us some sort of update. Even if it was just to say they are still investigating. I want to say I hope it will be over soon, but I have been wanting to say that every week since it started." He says with a soft chuckle and shakes his head. "For a while, I actually thought they would end up arresting someone at random just to show that they found the culprit and be able to open up again, but at least they don't seem to be willing to do something like that. So I guess that's good, in a way..."

Perhaps the leaders up on the Plate did care about not getting hold of the wrong people just for the sake of being able to end the search and end the lockdown.

He switches to a clean corner of the rag and starts carefully clean out the inside of the clock as well after all the pieces had been taken out. "Don't have high hopes that whoever did it will be willing to come forward on their own, unless they start feeling really guilty over keeping the city in this state. If they are even still here. Maybe whoever did it managed to escape the city right after, before everything shut down" Or the bomb had been on a timer and the attackers were far away already by the time it was set off.

CIAN

Help, I'm alive...

I nod in silent agreement as Cian speaks, thinking that there really had been no change or update since the lockdown began.  People down here in the Drench had adapted well enough for the most part, but I did feel right terrible for those who were from out of town, like my new friend.

He mentions that it is good they haven't outright arrested someone without cause, and I do agree.  I know it's something the Forcies would stoop to, if push came to shove, so it is maybe a bit more puzzling that they have not.  "I wonder," I say when he pauses, "if they would if people start protesting the lockdown more aggressively."  I sigh, an exhale that is heavy with the thought.

It would happen eventually if this pattern of no communication and continued enclosure continued.

Cian continues, cleaning off a clock cog with his rag still, musing almost as if to himself.  I continue my former pattern of nodding along, thinking that his perspective was easy enough to accept as 'correct'.  I think if anyone was going to confess to the crime, they'd have done so already.

"Coulda always fixed up timed detonator too," I say, unwittingly voicing Cian's silent thought.  "Though, that'd imply they'd have the know how to do it.  Narrows it down quite a bit if that's the case."

Iara

My heart keeps beating like a hammer
Hard to be soft, tough to be tender

Pick yourself up, up off the floor
Wipe the tears from off your face, because the cops are knocking on the door

He nods slowly with a thoughtful expression, silently hoping that his worries about someone at random being arrested are not warranted. Though he hesitates to speak up too much in what could be seen as support that the authorities are probably doing all they can. He's gotten the impression that many in the Drench prefer to hear you complain about the authorities, rather than believing that they are actually doing their job the way they should.

Then again, his personal experience with the enforcers had not been that kind, so he still can't feel overly supportive of their work to begin with.

He finishes up the cleaning, giving the grimy oily-looking dirt on the rag a displeased look and shakes his head for himself as he puts it aside to begin assemble all the small pieces back into the clock itself. Only pausing to look up when Iara mentions a timed detonator. "Yeah, perhaps." He mumbles. "Just concerning what people are capable of. I probably should not speak too much for or against that construction and all that, as I'm not the one having to live with it. Just a lot of people could have gotten hurt."

That the attack and the followed lockdown had been and still is a huge inconvenience for him is nothing he dares to say out loud. The daily living conditions of everyone living here versus him not being able to go home for a while. It could not compare fairly Shaking his head mostly for himself again, he closes up the clock and looks it over. "Well, at least this one should be fine again now."

CIAN

Help, I'm alive...

I had very little knowledge of Cian's own experiences with the Forcies, aside from what he'd shared with me about the Masquerade.  However, my experience with them was a bit more extensive than I'd care for, but not something worth bringing into the conversation.  I admit that, like many of the Drench, I was biased into feeling that they did not have our best interests - or any of our interests, really - at heart with their policies and actions.

Maybe if he had pressed the issue or asked, but he did not.  Cian seemed to have the quality of someone who observed well and acted in kind.  I admired it from across the table.

Cian looked at me with mumbling words at the mention of the detonator, but my eyes hands were already busy on the machine again.  Everything seemed to be functioning  more or less correctly now, so I sighed with relief.  It takes a moment for his words to register in my mind.  He mentions the issue of construction, and I nod.  "Yeah, I know many of us don't care much for the construction of another plate," my voice was matter-of-fact.  No sense in denying it.  "I know when the Plates are built, there's a rise of illness below - almost like pollution or somethin' else, if not just injuries from building the same things."

At his last comment, I quickly sidle in next to him, bending over to curiously look at the clock.  "Would you look at that," I say, a smile in my voice as well as my eyes.  A playful fist reaches out and quickly bumps against Cian's arm.  "Not bad."

Iara

My heart keeps beating like a hammer
Hard to be soft, tough to be tender

Pick yourself up, up off the floor
Wipe the tears from off your face, because the cops are knocking on the door

"I can understand not wanting to have even more constructs like that rising above your head." It is impressive still, if in a very grim way, how they had managed to build all the other Plates before people had had enough and blown up the newest one. Unless there had been similar attacks in the past he did not know about. Surely there must have been some protests. People couldn't possible just sit idly by and watch all of that rising up above their heads.

However, it also makes sense if that part of history was kept secret from the rest of the world. After all, he had not learned how bad the Drench really was before he was living in it. It was just not talked about.

Trying to push the grim topic away from his mind, he focuses back to Iara when she comes over to check on the clock he has been working on. He smiles brightly back at her and chuckles as her fist bumps against his arm. "Wasn't too much wrong with it. Must have been some dust or sand originally stopping the mechanism and someone seemed to think that oiling it up was the solution. The whole inside was just grimy and yeah... Just made it worse."

He picks up the rag he had been cleaning with and shakes it a bit for emphasis, then sets to gathering up the tools he had borrowed. "I see the dehumidifier hasn't caught fire yet either." He points out with a smirk as he walks over to the toolbox to put the tools back in their proper place.

CIAN